Before the _West Barbican_ was many days out Mrs. Shallop, in one of her few amiable moods, had asked the friendless and reserved girl if she would, for a small remuneration, give her a couple of hours a day for the purpose of reading to her. "My eyes aren't what they were," explained Mrs. Shallop. "And it's deadly dull on this ship when I can't even read." So Olive thankfully accepted the post, because it helped her to pay her way; and, even when Mrs. Shallop had her almost at her beck and call, the girl did her best to keep on good terms with her. It was not long before Olive found out the true nature of her supposed benefactress. Mrs. Shallop was vain, boastful, and with no regard for veracity. She was one of those persons who, having told the same fairy tale over and over again, firmly believe that the lie is the truth. On the other hand, her memory was defective, with the result that very frequently her story had a totally different setting when told a second or third time. In addition, she was bitingly sarcastic, and was never known to say a good word about anyone but herself. So Olive had rather a rotten time. The girl was, however, absolutely loyal to her employer. In the course of conversation with other passengers she was careful not to say a word that might be detrimental to Mrs. Shallop. Evidently that lady thought she might, for Argus-like she kept a strict watch upon her. The Shallops had taken "Round Trip" tickets. These were issued by the Blue Crescent Line, and guaranteed a voyage of not less than three months. If by any chance, as was frequently the case, the voyage was prolonged, the holder of the ticket scored, for he or she was maintained at the Company's expense until the ship returned home or the passengers transferred to another vessel of the Company's bound for England. Olive Baird's employers had made a heap of money during the Great War, and were now doing their best to spend it. Nevertheless, they wanted value for their outlay, and the round trip in the _West Barbican_ pointed that way. Mr. Shallop was not keen on the voyage. It was his wife who insisted upon it, mainly because it was "the thing" to travel, and it would be an easy matter on their return to give out that they had gone on a palatial P. & O. mail-boat. It sounded grander than the Blue Crescent Line. By this time the heat was beginning to tell upon the portly Mrs. Shallop. There were actually long intervals in which her strident voice failed to lacerate the ears of her fellow-passengers. This was one of them. Wanting to do "the thing" and send a wireless message to her sister in Cape Town, Mrs. Shallop was too fatigued to mount the bridge-ladder; her husband had sheepishly slunk away to the smoking-room, and only Olive was available to undertake the commission. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you," remarked Olive.